Spurred on by my own lethargy and lack of achievement, I rise in the morning bewildered but determined, determined to leap into action. Song: "Cloud song" from the album "The Faraway Near" - Peter Loveday.

Rocking oneself to sleep in a hammock, rocking all the way down into the valley of dreams.

Once you start, you cannot stop. This rewinding and peering into the past, overcome with backroom reverie and non-specific yearning. The story returns, briefly, to where it began.

(Containing quotes from "2666" by Roberto Bolaño) (Song: "Pretty black rose" from the album "For everything a place, 2025")

#robertobolaño #foreverythingaplace

Long nights stretched out between briefly glimpsed days. Songwriting and a debut in London. The story goes on. (Music: Birds of Tin, "High road, low road".)

this infernal reaching out… blindly… for something

Autumn quickly plummets into winter. Sometimes sleet, sometimes snow, often rain, or constant drizzle. Shoes are full of rain, and from salt on the road, … shoes stain. Feet soaked, toes wrinkling up like raisins. Socks are better … off. Hang them by the gas fire and watch the steam rise.

I lose myself at night and then come back again in the morning when I wake. How can that be. Where do I go. What exactly do I do there, that it is so hard to recall as soon as I wake. Do I leave my body entirely to float, to wander in the ether of dreams. Is this biology, chemistry, electrical engineering or metaphysics.

I am sent to the records department of the Law Society in Chancery Lane. Imagine my dismay to discover that they are not the kind of records I envisage.

Sometimes, things fall into place, mysteriously or methodically. Some believe it to be the work of stars, others put it down to numbers and maths, or even genetic design and disposition. There are those who feel the hand of some powerful being pulling strings, as if we were mere puppets, perhaps we are… (London skyline illustration by the author: EP cover design - Tiny Town, No Place Like Rome)

Small wonders win the day.